


A Thousand Tiny Universes: #reylomicrofics and #gingerrosevss

by bobaheadshark



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Kylo - D30 Ch1, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Finnpoe and Snalps - Ch2, Gingerrose - Ch2, May and June Microfics - Ch4, Microfic, Multi, Post-Canon Fix-It, Pre-microfic Microfics - Ch3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:54:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23591926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobaheadshark/pseuds/bobaheadshark
Summary: A running notebook of SW ST microfics/tiny stories that can fit in a single tweet. (Sometimes, more than one tweet.) Microfic ratings may run from G to E.Follow @reylomicrofics on Twitter for more info! We run seasonal writing challenges with prompts.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22
Collections: Reylomicrofics_S1





	1. Mar '20 Reylo AUs

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://ibb.co/4jNp1bV)   
>    
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's all-Reylo all-day, across a span of different tiny universes! Chapter 2 has gingerrose content and canonverse Reylo.

**MODERN REYLO AUs**

**D27, Steam**

Their tongs clash in a cloud of steam. Ben looks up from the buffet and at the woman he's been in wordless battle with, all week.

She swipes the last dumpling with her hand and eats it. Triumphant at last.

The silent retreat just got a lot more interesting.

**D12, Orange**

It's the accent, he thinks. Royal. A stark contrast to her reaction as Van Persie finally scores, and the whole bar goes wild.

"Bet my team wins?" he says.

She smirks. Eyes his jersey. The sole swatch of blue in a sea of orange.

"I like my odds."

**D15, Cycle**

New guy's back. Him, his long legs, and his terrifyingly tight spandex. Nevermind that they're head-to-head on the leaderboard, or that if she squints, she can see the outline of his massive c––[404, NOT FOUND]

RIGHT. CYCLING, Rey thinks.

...She still peeks. 

**D5, Animal**

It’s animal instinct. A flash of white teeth at her jugular, close enough to draw blood. A nose, sniffing for prey.

“Down, BeeBee!” Rey shouts.

The only affirmative she gets is the patter of paws on mud, and Ben’s laughter as he throws the ball once more. 

**D13, Character**

To: hux@fo.org

From: phasma@fo.org

Riddle me this, my favourite fecund-minded gingersnap.

  1. Who is this rNiima character and how did they bypass MY encryption last night? From a RESISTANCE IP address?



  1. Solo. Smiling. Wtf?



Pantry. NOW.

-P

**D6: Molecule**

Ben's never popped a boner in front of a saffron emulsion before.

“Molecular Gastronomy,” Rey says, drily.

“Fundamental.”

“Bullshit.”

He inhales. Tries to forget how his protegé smells. Frankincense and Verbena. Singular. Like her.

Fuck. REFOCUS.

“Stir.”

**D23, Sage**

“Did you know,” Rey says, willow-soft, “that Sage is a quaternary shade? Equal parts citron, and slate.”

“I see Malachite.”

She peers at him from behind the canvas.

“You can see my palette?”

Ben holds her gaze.

“I was talking about your eyes."

**D29, Tropic**

Ben hates the tropics. It's sweaty, the mosquitoes are murder, and he's sunburnt. Again.

But then he sees her: feet up in the hammock, wearing that too-tiny yellow bikini, howling with laughter at something Rose's said.

Suddenly, he loves the tropics. 

**D5, Animal**

“He did this thing with this mouth...” Rey sighs.

“Wait. Ben? Enemy no.1?” Rose asks.

“Turns out Guitar Hero’s a healthy way to settle differences between Junior Partners. That, and sitting on his face.”

Rose almost drops her boba.

“You filthy animals!”

**D1, Pathway**

Imperious. Obtuse. Comically inscrutable. The rumours about Dr. Benjamin Solo were all true – he was a study of contrasts. 

But...the way he flushed? Stared, from across the Duke U bar?

Rey knew neuroscience. And this pathway was begging to be known.

  
  


**D16, Quarantine**

Day 14 of the quarantine and they’d been through pretty much every word in the Merriam-Webster.

"Magnetism." Rey says, sliding the M into place.

"14 points."

"What do I win?" She asks, a little breathlessly.

His smile turns wolfish, and a new game's afoot.

**D24, Pyramid**

His daughter sits cross-legged, eyes buried in her latest tome. Today’s pick: Maslow.

“Dad, d’you think you’re self-actualised?”

Ben chuckles. He looks over at Rey - not so much a pyramid as she is his entire Egypt.

“No, Hana. But I have everything I need.”

**D30, Alive**

Rey presses the final piece of glitter onto his cheek with the delicacy of a sous chef.

"It's too much." He mutters.

"Ben. It's a New York City drag night. There's no such thing as 'too much'."

His foot taps an anxious rhythm. 

She places one hand on his knee, then hands over the final piece of the outfit: a set of long black gloves, embroidered with carmine silk.

Where the heart line of Ben's palm would be, she's sewn three letters.

"Tai."

That explains the band-aids, he thinks, wryly.

It's not until Rey dabs at his face that Ben realises he's crying. For the love he's lost, the love he's found, and the unmistakable feeling of being known.

Rey holds him until the sniffling subsides.

"I figured this way, you'd always carry him with you."

The rush of emotion hits him again. A flash flood. But for the first time, it feels like someone's peered into the waters, and seen the depth of his hidden grief. 

"Thank you, Rey."

She pokes him in the bicep.

"C'mon, now. He wouldn't stand for the crying. And I'll only do your eye makeup once time. Lash glue is a bitch."

He smiles, and she almost drops her brush as he leans in, and proceeds to mess up both of their lipstick for a while longer.

Hours later, he gets on a tiny stage and dedicates "Holding Out for a Hero" to a lost, but not forgotten, partner.

He doesn't win. But he knows that somewhere above the city, a star twinkles a little brighter tonight - and he recognises what it is to truly feel alive.

**OTHER AUs**

**D9, Signature**

“No prints,” Mitaka says.

Detective Solo leans in to examine the empty glass case. Stealing from Snoke is a bold move. Elegant, really.

“He did leave a bloom. A new signature?”

“She. And no.” Ben smirks. “This is something else. An invitation.”

**D10, Bow**

Their sabres clash at the bow of her ship.

“Sloppy today, scavenger.”

“And you, my dear Captain, are distracted.”

Steel whispers a kiss past his jugular as he stumbles back.

If this is the dance of death, Ben thinks, he wants no other partner. 

**D22, Rigmarole**

She finishes the sprints with ease. A rigmarole of the military routine that's familiar as breathing.

“Taking our time today, Niima?”

“Going easy on the elderly.”

Commander Solo's eyes flash. And she wonders if there's a rule in the books for what they are.

**D5, Animal**

Her transformation startles him. Pulse rocketing, fever climbing. All tenderness evaporated, and in its place, an animal snarl.

To have and to hold, he remembers. 

To hold and to heal, he recalls.

Ben opens the door, and lets his wolf in. 

**D17, Neon**

Another night, another contender. She winds the wraps tighter as the clock flashes '5 mins' in red neon.

Scavenger, they call her. Guts them in the ring, spits out the spare parts. They all pull their punches, until she stops faking hers. 

But she senses something, beyond the cage. Him. Easily spotted: sable hair, patrician nose, and that haughty countenance. A fox amongst wolves.

He may know her body, but he's never seen her fight. So she tears her eyes away, and vows to give him a sight to remember.

**D11,** [ **Picture Prompt** ](https://twitter.com/rlogarbagech1/status/1237750451631575040)

The storm roars past; he doesn't notice. They play in the 67th floor of his glass dollhouse: a debutante with an unexplained windfall, a trust fund kid with restlessness to burn.

Legacy's of no consequence when they're skin-to-skin. (Or so they pretend.)

**D4, Glare**

Ben and Rey watched as the castle was lost to the avalanche. A bastion of wickedness, buried under clear blue sky.

Rey lifted a hand to block the midday glare.

“Let the past die. Kill it, if you have to.” She said.

He, for once, looked less sure.

**D21, Frequently**

The urchin’s back. Frequently. She weaves through the Solo Emporium, pocketing produce, quiet as a mouse.

Ben wonders when her last real meal was. If she fends for herself in the alleyways at night. If she knows that he's watching.

Maybe one day, he'll ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to check out Chapter 2 for canonverse stuff and gingerrose, if that's your speed! 
> 
> Kudos and comments mean the world, so please feel free to drop one below if you enjoyed these, or want to see any of them turned into full-length stories 😊
> 
> If I've missed any tags, please let me know!
> 
> I'm also very much on[twitter](https://twitter.com/bobaheadshark).


	2. Mar '20: Canon Reylo, Gingerrose, Finnpoe, bonus Snalps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out microfics was also my gateway drug to writing more Gingerrose! So if that's your ship, this be your chapter.
> 
> Warning: references to Ben's death in the canon section so if the angst is not for you, you may want to skip that part. But the ending's more optimistic, I promise.

**GINGERROSE, FINNPOE, AND BONUS SNALPS**

**D18, Binary**

The guards are shouting behind the door. Tico decrypts the binary, lightning-quick.

“Naboo!” They say, together. There’s a spark in her eyes, and Hux kisses her before he can second-guess it.

“What was that for?”

“Call it a token of gratitude.”

She snorts.

**D12, Orange**

He almost trips over his jeans as he yanks them off, he's so terribly overexcited. She's on top of him in two seconds flat.

"So. The carpet does match the drapes." Rose says. 

It's not humanly possible, but Hux is sure he blushes bright orange.

**D25, Abstract**

Holdo's diminutive campaign manager is positively bristling tonight. Hux likes her best when she's like this - wired, incendiary.

It's been a while since anyone's kept up.

"Hux, that TV spot was a complete obfuscation of the facts, and you know it."

"You've pranced into my office at 11 on a weeknight to shout at me about likability politics?"

"Character assassination is not a fucking abstraction, you flame-headed idiot!"

"Ah. But what's happening between us - not a fucking abstraction, is it, Rose?"

  
  


**D4, Glare**

Ben kicks down the door to the villa and kisses Rey senseless.

He stops at the sight of her grandpa, admiring himself in the mirror. His exposed buttocks are pale enough to reflect the sun’s glare.

"Oh dear, Snoke must have double-booked," says Palpatine.

**D20, Swimming**

Finn stopped converting °C to °F days ago. It’s all the same searing heat in Mallorca anyway.

“Need help with the sunscreen, buddy?” Poe peers at him over the rim of his sunglasses. 

Finn gulps. A bracing swim may be just the help he needs. 

**D28, Starbust (** [ **music prompt** ](https://open.spotify.com/track/42Hp7JPoOdJjql55IDO18z?si=t7h9EbzRRsyzfLkYv-VAJw) **)**

"- graduated top of my class at St. Paul's and spent seven years in reconnaissance, so if you find me some...incapable dingbat because I'm a girl from where your office deigns to be a backwater colony, well -" 

Rose clenches her fists, and the man behind the desk steeples his fingers. An action so simple, yet within the confines of this overstuffed Consulate office, she recognises the mundane power of pen and paper to topple entire cities. 

She would know. For she survived it.

"I meant no insult by it, Ms. Tico. It merely strikes me as odd that a woman like yourself would travel so far, and over such extraordinary lengths, to personally petition an Officer in a country that your revolution claims to hate."

For a while, there's just the slow ticking of the Mahogany clock on his mantle, and the flush of her cheeks as Rose recalculates the odds. Hux speaks softly, but she detects the iron will in his demeanor - this man and his three-piece suit and his overly inquiring gaze. 

Seafoam, she thinks. The colour of his eyes. And within their depths, she finds something else - the promise of a storm. 

**CANON REYLO**

**D20, Swimming**

After all these years, she still swims like a drunk Bantha. Splashing water everywhere, more effort than style.

But as he glides alongside her, he thinks of the other lessons she's taught him: patience, understanding, love.

She's his lighthouse, and he's home.

**D3, Confetti**

Rey counts 84 candles. Beneath the streamers and confetti, she’s grateful.

Yet every year, there’s a moment - of turning inwards. Revisiting a quiet, sequestered grief.

She makes a wish. Lucidity’s elusive, but she knows he hears it.

“Be with me.”

**D26, Stitches**

He needs 32 stitches in the end. Turns out falling 60 feet into a pit can really do a number on a person, even when you're one of the most Force-sensitive fighters around.

"You have a visitor, Sir," a med droid whirrs.

Then she's there. Leia. 

Hair whiter, body frailer, but still with the undeniable aura of a leader. She squares her shoulders with stoicism, but the effect's undone by the softness etched in the lines around her eyes.

"Mom."

Her cane clatters to the floor. 

In an instant, he's back in her arms. Small again. Safe.

"Took you long enough." She murmurs.

"I know. I'm sorry."

Ben muses that he may have stitches, but perhaps for the first time - he's learning how to heal.

**D19,** [ **Picture Prompt** ](https://twitter.com/rlogarbagech1/status/1240629999532572672)

It takes her years. But when she opens the last portal, he's there. Alive.

“I've travelled through space and time to find you,” Rey begins.

“Let's stay.”

“Huh?”

“This universe has Netflix. And chill. Is 'iamurdaddy' a strong password?”

“Ben, what the KRI–”

**D7: Molecule**

Rey knows 3 truths.

The shriek of her saber, as threat and promise.

The song of Kyber, for destiny and faith.

The press of Ben's body, in challenge and submission.

She knows all this. But truths become inconsequential;  
she sinks down onto him, and she's home.

**D2, Yield**

"A flame rose? How did you–"

It was an old Alderaanian plant. Ben knew of it, but only from whispers. He tempered his surprise.

"How many blooms will it yield? How will it grow?"

The morning sun shone behind Rey. She smiled.

"We have everything we need."

**D8, Lazy**

Rey expects sweet, tender, maybe languorous. She expects possession, passion, and maybe provocation.

What she doesn’t expect is the surrender she feels when Ben’s on his knees, feasting on her cunt. A lazy afternoon turned exploration, under the golden Naboo sun.

**D31, Forever**

He plays brilliantly. But she finds an opening, and captures the King.

"Checkmate." She says, brushing silver hair from her eyes.

He grins. "Guess you've got me."

Their wrinkled palms meet over the board.

"We have each other, Ben. Forever, and always."

**D14, Home**

Home isn’t just a place, Rey thinks.

It’s in Rose’s laughter at Dejarik, resounding and true.

It’s in Finn and Poe’s sundew blossoms on Coruscant. Careful, tender. Real.

It’s in Jannah’s steely resolve. A remoteness hewn from survival, one that Rey recognises too well. But these days, it’s tempered with something closer to joy. 

It’s in the burn of fuel lines as she sends the Falcon hurtling through the stars. The clarion call when she reaches out with the Force, and hears hundreds more voices, calling back.

It’s in the certainty of a knowledge that she can’t explain. A truth she holds deep in her heart. 

She’ll see him again. 

However far, whatever it takes.

She smiles, charts the flightpath, and begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments mean the world, so please feel free to drop one below if you enjoyed these or want to see any of them turned into full-length stories 😊
> 
> I'm also very much On Twitter so follow [bobaheadshark](https://twitter.com/bobaheadshark) or the [reylomicrofics](https://twitter.com/reylomicrofics) account to keep an eye out for future editions of this challenge!


	3. Jan '20: Pre-microfic Microfics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some pre-microfic month microfics! Merging works here for tidiness 🤷♀️ From [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bobaheadshark/status/1220993788887175168). 
> 
> Originally inspired by [Jeeno](https://twitter.com/jeenonamit/status/1220729173624393728).

* * *

_@tsundeReysukoco: Pirated dvd vendor AU please_

“$15 for the lot. I’ll even throw in Sharknado 3 as a bonus.”

She drove a hard bargain. Luckily, so did he.

“3's the worst one. The Buckingham Palace sequence in 5? Oscar-worthy.”

“Hey, buddy, I don't have all day.”

A beat.

“$500. If you’ll meet me for a drink after work.”

##

_Microfic for @maha_ranis_

“Thai.”

“No, Indian.”

“THAI is the best.”

Rose groaned. She was tired. Sundays were for Netflix, mimosas, and naps. Not her roommates’ weird foreplay.

“Ben, Rey — hot take, but...I don’t even like mangoes. And I’m Asian.”

They looked horrified.

##

_Chinese New Year (CNY) one for @MsRandom1401_

Rent a boyfriend, Paige said. Just for CNY, Paige said. It’ll stop Aunt Ida asking about your love life, Paige said.

Rose had no qualms paying for a dating service. Problem was, she hadn’t expected the red-haired man who showed up to be this...sexy.

##

_For @sofondabooks. Prompt: Ben making Rey coffee_

“So you press —“

Her toes brushed the arch of his foot.

“The grounds must be —“

Her mouth was doing very interesting things to his neck.

“The beans — Rey, are you listening?”

She wasn’t. But kissing her, he soon found he forgot about the lesson, too.

##

_For @Reybelle4_

Synth hitting, lights pulsing, beat kicking, bodies moving, heartbeats racing, blood climbing, souls circling, freefalling.

"Didn't know you liked MGMT", Ben shouted over the throng of the dancefloor.

"You never asked," Rey said, closing the distance.

##

Textfic interlude!

Context: Ben and Rey met on a long transit in Singapore's airport 12 hrs ago and are killing time together.

All the airport features are real. 'Cus Singapore's [extra](https://changiairport.com/en/discover/attractions/butterfly-garden.html%E2%80%A6) like [that](https://jewelchangiairport.com/en/attractions/canopy-park.html).

##

_@tsundeReysukoco: I bet they'd go to boba tea shop (NB: I cheated, this became two tweets.)_

Trying to remember how to do a Heimlich manoeuvre was not how Ben had pictured this date going.

Rey’s face of delight, stepping into the fancy boba shop? 100% worth it.

Her overenthusiastic slurping of the tapioca floating in the Earl Grey? Not so much.

“Hold still, dammit,” he said, thwacking her on the back.

She coughed, spitting a drool-covered black glob onto a napkin in his hand.

He'd be disgusted if he wasn't so disgustingly in love.

Thirty pairs of eyes judged them silently as she howled with laughter.

##

_@MsRandom1401: Kindergarten teachers AU where Ben is the newbie and somewhat awkward around kids (why the hell he ends up in this profession???) and Rey is students' fave teacher so she showing him the ropes_

“Mr. Solo, we keep Kain away from Lego for a reason.”

“How would I know he’d stick them up his nose?”

THIS guy. He'd waltzed in, thinking this was easy. Entitlement pressed into a civil servant's grey suit.

Please.

Shadow-a-Teacher Day was about to get very interesting.

# _Warning for minor sadfeels here on out:_ #

FALCON'S CAPTAIN LOG, 50ABY

Fifteen years, today.

When you kissed me, something inside me blossomed. But I'm a child of the desert, didn't know how to make it grow.

We've been rebuilding. Haven't stopped.

I just wish you were here to see it.

##

I dreamt I opened the door and you were standing there. Safe. Whole.

You held my hand, a lifeline after an ocean of almost-haves, so-sorrys and I-wish-it'd-been-differents.

We won. But this victory's a scab. Won't heal.

I only pick at it on my own.

##

There wasn’t much to gather. A few notepads, sparse and impersonal. A compass pointing North, wayfinding for no owner. An obsidian Sith meditation totem, which Rey wrapped in cloth, smothering its siren song.

She had found Ben’s things, but sorrow was what she carried with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos, comments, concrit appreciated :)


	4. May & Jun '20 Reylo Microfics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bunch of microfics and drabbles from the past two months from [reylomicrofics](https://twitter.com/reylomicrofics), a prompt challenge I run on Twitter. Some fit in a tweet (280 characters), some didn't.
> 
> Featuring: a party, a heist, a not-meet-cute, neighbours with crushes, magic doors, witchy and wizardy people, Dr Who references, Olympian swimmer Rey.

[ **Prompt: Iris** ](https://twitter.com/bobaheadshark/status/1271841232977686531)

_*heads up – there's a passing mention to Han's chronic disease in this one, so you might want to skip ahead if that's not for you*_

\--

“Did it hurt?” he says.

“What?”

“When heaven fell on you.”

Shit. That didn’t come out right.

He’s slurring his words, and his brain feels like pulp, so he tries to remember how he got here.

His mind puts together the pieces: Chewie. Idiot wolfhound, sniffer extraordinaire, dragging him halfway across the park in search of pigeons. A fall. Into the flowerbeds. Headfirst into hydrangeas, which he's deathly allergic to.

That'd explain the woozy feeling. He’s probably half drugged-up on medical-grade antihistamines. _Shit, shit, shit._

He sees the Doctor turn and say something in a low voice to a lady with the badge “R. Taco”. Something about his irises being “blown a thousand miles wide.”

That’s when he starts to panic. Because he hates hospitals. Hates the disinfectant smell, hates the lighting, hates the inconvenient memories that bubble up of his father plugged into IVs and yanking them out of his arm until he’d run out of strength to do so.

Ben can hear the heart rate monitor ricocheting up next to him. Not a fucking panic attack. Not now. He’s trying not to gasp for air when he feels a reassuring palm on his back and a hand on his wrist.

The taller doctor with the brown hair. She’s stepped closer, and is talking to him.

“You’re alright, Mr. Organa-Solo. You’re fine.”

He blinks. Nobody’s touched him in… fuck, he’s forgotten when the last time was.

And he knows this is strictly professional, but a part of him also wants to crumple up and admit that he’s not fine. He hasn’t really been fine in a long time. So he reaches for the only thing he knows how to do. Like a colt, who only knows how to kick where it hurts most.

“If you know who I am," he says, "then the hospital knows better than to send grad students patrolling around my ward.”

She stills, and steps back. Her posture is ramrod-stright, the picture of professional courtesy, but he can see that he’s struck a nerve.

“Right." She says. "My apologies. I’ll speak to the Dr. Holdo and ensure that your particular needs will be sufficiently catered to, Mr. Organa-Solo.” She says it with the utmost politeness, but there's an undertone. Venom. Now this, he knows what to do with.

She doesn't give him the pleasure of a retort. Instead, she spins on her heel and walks away with all the dignity that blue scrubs and daisy-yellow crocs can allow. He saw her nametag though. _R. Sanderson_.

He knows that name. Heard about the emergency tracheotomy Sanderson pulled off with a pen. Read the research papers in the cardiothoracic journals.

It's the same Sanderson he’s been debating with in the Columbia Med online forums since January.

The same R. Sanderson whose email address he’s had saved in his address book, who he’d intended to contact about a consulting role in the telemedical startup he’s had brewing in his head for months.

He just hadn’t expected R. Sanderson to be a woman. And he just made a pass at her at her workplace – a workplace with his family's name on the goddamned ward – and insulted her to her face.

 _Well fuck_ , he thinks. Way to make a first impression.

##

[ **Prompt: magic** ](https://twitter.com/bobaheadshark/status/1259850899092123654)

The party got boring two tequilas ago. Rose and Finn have snuck off, so Rey counts beer bottles. 67...68...6–

“Wanna see a magic trick?”

His name tag says “Ben” but his posture says “hi?”

She eyes him up and down. Grins.

“Only if you show me how to disappear.”

  
##

[ **Prompt: drive** ](https://twitter.com/bobaheadshark/status/1262378161335144450)

The bills are crisp in his hands.

The haul's small, but it'll buy them another week. Two, if they're smart.

He looks at her. The evening sun's in her eyes; flint on glass.

“Where to, sweetheart?” Her hand's warm on his knee.

Her grin, wolfish. “Just drive.”

##

  
[ **Prompt: Zamboni** ](https://twitter.com/bobaheadshark/status/1273640027692523520)

  
The screwdriver floats over to her station. She catches it without looking. “Running zamboni.exe now,” she says. “Ready to receive, Captain Niima," he replies, all smiles.

They’ve gotten used to this. The zero gravity. The upside down days. The grainy prerecorded 'chrons – warm voices and smiles running on an endless loop.

It's almost enough to forget why they're here. Until the console pings.

It never pings.

"Ren." The voice crackles. ID: unknown channel.

Rey tightens her grip on the screwdriver.

"Who's Ren?"

##

[ **Prompt: Ritual** ](https://twitter.com/bobaheadshark/status/1275234022872870912)  
  


It’s ritual, by now.

Incapacitate target. Pulverise. Grind bones.

It’s just been so long since it’s been fun.

“Come play, little bear.” She coos.

The man with ‘Solo’ on his vest looks over his shoulder. Sprints deeper into the forest.

The harvest has begun.

##

[ **Moodboard prompt** ](https://twitter.com/bobaheadshark/status/1276359967725912064)

The girl bursts through the door. The door that shouldn’t make sense – because it floats, in the canyon, between sun and air.

“Ben! Run!” Her voice. He only knows it from dreams. But she’s here, alive.

It’s all light and phantasmagoria, when he takes her hand.

##

[ **Prompt: time** ](https://twitter.com/bobaheadshark/status/1276936385170030592)

It's no use. No matter how she replays the timeloop, there's only one way they can win.

“You know what you have to do, Doctor.”

"I'm sorry, Ben." She says, through tears. "I'll be back, I promise."

"I'm counting on it."

So he smiles, and lets himself fall.

##

[ **Prompt: build** ](https://twitter.com/bobaheadshark/status/1272545214339547137)

“He’s… uh…very stoic. Hawkish nose. Sort of.”

Ben squints, because this isn’t making any sense.

“Galaxy brain. Um, attractive. Built!” Rey adds.

Ben can hear Poe and Finn's snickering from across the room.

And Rey for some weird reason is…acting weird. Shifting from side-to-side, looking everywhere but his eyes. Ben sighs. “It's Michael fuckin’ Shannon?”

Rey shakes her head. 20 questions is the second stupidest thing he’s ever agreed to. (The first was agreeing to come to this party.) And he’s just own-goaled his last proverbial shot, because now he feels like a complete idiot in front of the… girl from 2B. Yeah.

It’s easier to think of her as that rather than… well, it's best that he doesn't think about the alternatives. He frowns and tears the post-it off his forehead. Of course Rey already guessed hers in five questions. It's not like "Ada Lovelace" is hard for a PhD mathematician.

“Who was mine supposed to be, anyway?” Ben asks.

He catches Rey blushing as he looks down at the post-it.

“Oh. Right.” He mumbles.

Because the name on the paper reads: Ben Solo.

##

**[Music Prompt](https://twitter.com/bobaheadshark/status/1277615265769902081) **

  
It’s a dingy restaurant in the middle of nofuckingwhere, Utah. The breakfast is measly: a few sad-looking buns, the remnant of an egg, and a melted yellow blob that might have once passed for butter.

The server’s unmoved when he calls her over to complain. She seems harried to Ben, but her green eyes are diamond-sharp.

“Oh, Maz.” She mutters, under her breath.

She takes the tray and disappears through a set of swinging doors. Curiosity gets the better of him, so he follows. He catches a glimpse of her staring at the tray, with one hand hovering over the food, and the tip of her tongue sticking out of her mouth.

He has to rub his eyes, just then, because the plate is... _changing_. Green fungus retreats and the bun forms a sturdy brown. Eggs are restored into their runny yolk. Steam wafts, cheerfully, above the plate.

She seems pleased with herself, until she looks up and sees him through the porthole of the door. His hand is on her upper arm before she can bolt.

“I haven’t seen another in a hundred years.” He whispers. “Who are you?”

##  
  


[Prompt: marvel](https://twitter.com/bobaheadshark/status/1275621205223936001)  
  


He watches as she glides through the last meter of water, and slams her hand onto the wall. The Desert Girl beats Fantastic Phasma.

Rey stares at the board, stunned. Crying. Her last race, and it’s a new world record.

It’s been a group effort to get here, and Rose has already gone to marshall the press. But he knows the work Rey’s put in for this. The unending laps, the ice baths. Early AM strategy sessions, late night pep talks.

She won’t be needing those, anymore.

She won’t need him.

He thinks, weirdly, of bananas. How she inhales them after training: mashed and frozen with peanut butter. He takes assistant coach duties seriously, so he has the bag ready, every morning, without fail.

How strange that four years can be eulogised in plastic and fruit.

Ben kneels over the pool’s edge to speak, before she’s buoyed away by the crowd.

“Rey, you marvel. You did it.”

She hugs him. His shirt is wet, but he doesn’t mind — because she pulls him closer, and kisses him.

She smells like chlorine; tastes like heaven. He’s a little dazed as they pull apart. Half the globe’s watching, but this moment is theirs.

 _Why?_ He thinks.

She smiles back.

“It’s all about the seconds. I’m making mine count.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked the stories, have headcanons, or concrit, let me know in the comments!


	5. Jul '20 Microfics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A selection of prompt-fills from [reylomicrofics](https://twitter.com/reylomicrofics/status/1278671262668091393), July 2020. Theme: summer! This month's prompts are all Reylo-related except one.

**4 Jul, Heat**

His mouth's working magic on her cunt. It’s heaven, but she can’t stand it for much longer.

“Hot.”

Ben smirks at her. “I know.”

“No...it's literally roasting. Is the heating on?”

He thinks of the stew. And her oven’s faulty timer.

They say it at the same time.

“Oh, shit!”

**5 Jul, Juice**

He barely hears the words to the song. Something about "juicy" and "eating lunch"?

Because despite her awful dance moves – all elbows, no grace – the only thing he thinks about is how fucking good she looks in that lace.

(She takes him to bed, later.)

(He eats...the full meal.)

**8 Jul, Fresh (gingerrose)**

“Took you long enough.”

He's only known his handler through typeface, and code. Hux didn't think she'd be so fearsome. Or so small.

“Getting fresh with me, Tico? You might not like how this ends.”

She elbows him, but there's a look in her eyes that says: "darling, maybe I do".

**9 Jul, Buzzing**

Niima's saying something about "piss-poor fiscal policy"; but all he can focus on is her.

“Any response, Senator Ren?

"She's right."

The floor's buzzing. Snoke will have his head.

Worth it, though. For her look of surprise.

Not nearly love, but close enough to benediction.

**12 Jul,[Good Vibrations](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eab_beh07HU)**

Tingling, at the back of his skull.

He's not felt it. Not since they buried Tai.

So it’s a surprise, when his emotion chip reactivates. The world goes blue, then flashes white.

A mate?

He scans the crowd. Searching.

And he finds the forest-green eyes.

Of a Resistance Agent.

**16 Jul, Swell**

Rey wakes up in a cave. Coldness creeps upon her skin.

There was...sunset. A seaswell. Then, nothing.

“Where am I?”

“You’re my guest.”

She doesn’t know where the voice comes from.

But the last thing she remembers, before sleep takes her, is the flash of gills.

And teeth.

**19 Jul, Ambrosia**

She's dropped his tweed jacket to the floor and is making good headway on his shirt buttons before he speaks again.

"You taste like...ah. Like Greek ambrosia."

Rey stifles a giggle. He's been like this all night, Tall Guy from the JAKU Conference.

"Y'know... you don't always have to try so hard." She says.

The blush that scampers across his cheekbones sends a thrill straight through her.

The kind of thrill she wants to chase. Recklessly.

Heedless of the fact that she's about to defend her paper in front of a panel of ignorant, one-uppity, posh fuckers like Snoke and Hux; they of the single-syllable surnames and boys' club whispers and god knows what.

She'll have this, if it's the one thing she can take.

"I... am I?" He asks.

She isn't sure she's heard him use that voice before. Soft, a wobble in it. A little unsure.

So different from when he spoke at the lectern and demolished her funding proposal yesterday.

It's infuriating really, how well he did it.

But she thinks of dimensionality. Of solar flares.

Of sidelong glances and brushing elbows at coffee.

Of chaos theory, underlying patterns, interconnectedness.

Of this man, who wants her.

She peers into his eyes and finds uncertainty there.

The space between them feels transmutable. Filled with fractals and equations she can't bear to find the proof for, yet.

So she kisses him, long and lingering.

So much she can feel the sharp inhale he takes.

It burns its way into his chest, and hers.

There's a polaroid of her future she hasn't shaken out yet.

But maybe right now, she doesn't have to.

"C'mon, Benjamin. I can think of a couple more creative ways you could use that mouth. Yeah?"

"Yeah."

And his smile lights up a dangerous spot in her heart – too close, too bright – as they tumble headfirst into bed.

**21 Jul, Equator**

She stares at the spot that marks the equator, and remembers their pact.

"In ten years, if you're not...uh." He took a breath. "Meet me? In the middle of the world?"

She'd laughed. But she's here, no? Standing in Quito, reliving the past?

So she's lost, for a while. Submerged in memory's undertow.

Wishing she'd stayed.

Until a familiar voice says "hi". And Rey knows, even before she turns to see.

She thinks of ley lines: pockets of energy.

And of sigils. To guide her home.

**28 Jul, Sail**

The dart sails through the air.

“Bullseye.”

“Ah, shit.”

He sips his beer. Doesn’t sound all that sad.

She thinks of their dumb pranks. The lawn sprints. Starbucks drinks. That time he’d piggybacked her, and then laughed weird.

“Bet’s a bet, Ben.”

“So come claim your prize.”

**31 Jul, Luminous**

Rey tries not to laugh. Under the blacklight, Ben’s teeth are luminous.

“You look like a shark.”

He circles her, making silly chomping noises.

She stops him with a kiss.

So they finish the escape room, dead-last.

But walking out, holding his hand?

Rey feels like she’s won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos, comments, concrit always welcome. 
> 
> I run @reylomicrofics on Twitter, and I also [yap a lot](https://twitter.com/bobaheadshark).


	6. Sep-Dec '20 Microfics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> September to December microfics for posterity

RIGOR  
  
All his life, Finn’s only known rigor.

Days pass in holorecords. Warm meals sustain, but don’t reach his heart.

After the end, Rose hands him a slice of Jogan fruit with a smile.

He’s still not quite sure what they are.

But in that piece, he finds something whole.

  
MERCURY

"What god would I be? Mercury," Ben says, strewing kisses across her clavicle.

"Eloquence and luck, with an affinity for trickery and thieves? Sounds about right, Senator."

He doesn't answer, but his fingers weave deft patterns on her thigh beneath her skirt. 

She hates how much she likes when he does that. They'd warned her about this at the Academy – how lines with informants can get blurry and strange, warping into something beyond definition. Rey tries not to think about it too much.

It's easier to unmoor herself from her feelings, if what's between them doesn't have a name.

"And what then, Solo, am I?" She asks.

"Diana. Minerva. Morta. The death of me."

She swats him. "Rude."

He smirks.

"You're wrong, by the way." Rey adds.

He looks up from where he's tucked his chin at her hipbone. Huge hands tracing lazy circles on her bare waist, like she's his personal altar.

They've done this long enough that he doesn't push her to talk. He looks at her, and she could fit the damn universe in the blown-out centre of his eyes. She wants to toss all of it in there. The mess with First Order, the emails. Tico's pitying looks, after every debrief.

Rey sighs. "You're Pluto."

"A fossil? Irrelevant?"

His tone's playful. But the confession hangs between them, unspoken meaning laid bare. What she means is his remoteness. His clinical coolness. The political underworld that he inhabits, with his TV-ready smile.

She shouldn't care what he does outside of this room. Or rather, she should care, if only out of duty to the country she serves. Because this is all this is. Between them. Utility. (Convenience.)

She can tell he feels it too. What she finds in his expression is a flash of genuine alarm. But it passes. And his armour's up, once more. He smiles into the dip of her stomach, and pushes her skirt further up.

What they do after is a familiar ritual. His voice, panting and ragged in her ear as she begs him to do things, take things that she's parsed out only in increments to others who are more valuable assets. His touch, demanding but tender, a confession writ across her skin.

His cock, which she knows so well, and takes between her thighs – she takes his tribute.

In the morning, she will be who she needs to be. Agent, mortal, weaponised.

But tonight, she is Venus. And she is divine.

IRIDESCENCE

  
"That's how the iridescence of butterfly wings helps with intraspecific signaling." Ben pushes his glasses up his nose. Why does the lab feel so warm? 

"I see. So what's the signal called...between me and you?" 

He looks over, and finds a whole new event horizon in Rey's eyes.

COBALT

They next meet on the field. The cobalt stripe on her face marks her ascent in the tribe, steady and true. 

"You grow slow, Sir Ren." 

"Perhaps it's the company that drives me to distraction." 

Rey finds an opening, and he's on his knees. 

He's never been more grateful in defeat.

TEMPER

“I’m just so fucking angry, Ben. It never ends. We spend our entire lives canvassing and fundraising and fighting but it just feels so...hopeless.” Rey stares at her husband. She may be the city’s youngest-ever senator, but right now, she’s human, and she’s afraid.

  
She’s a statue, arms crossed, standing in the centre of the living room carpet in her DC floor-approved pantyhose and her battle-ready lipstick. _She’s so brave_ , he thinks. _I’m so proud_ , is what he feels.  
  
He strides across the room to pull her into a hug.  
  
“I don’t know that I have an easy answer. But you’re out there, giving people a voice, with some great people around you. You saw the numbers from Rose’s social campaign,” he says.  
  
Rey gives a watery laugh, and wipes her nose on his shirt sleeve.  
  
“Yeah, who knew penguins would be the boost we needed to get eyeballs on the JAKU bill.”  
  
“It was great.”  
  
“Mmhmm.” She buries her face closer into his chest, inhaling his scent fresh linen, pine, and old books. She relaxes, marginally.  
  
“Are your PolSci students talking about it?”  
  
“Of course they are.”  
  
“And what do they say?”  
  
“Oh, they’re idealistic, of course. Not given them my lecture about how socialism’s failed. That’s next week.”  
  
Rey snorts.  
  
“Ironic that you married one of the biggest Bernie-supporters there is.”  
  
He peers down at her. “We differ on tactics, not on stuff that matters.”  
  
Rey smiles into his chest, and when she pulls away, there’s a tearstained face-imprint there. He doesn’t seem to care.  
  
“I’d better go, Finn’s got a dossier full of prep to run through with me,” Rey says.  
  
“Sure.”  
  
They go through their efficient routine of getting ready: him passing her coffee in a tumbler (milk, three sugars), her helping him shrug into his jacket (tweed, because Fall), him leaning to kiss her forehead before she steps out of the door and into battle — one that will be beamed into TVs and cellphones all around the world.  
  
“Sweetheart?”, he says, before she gets in the car.  
  
“Mm?”  
  
He tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “I love you.”  
  
Her eyes say, “I know.”  
  
“And I don’t know that we’ll always win.” He adds, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But for what it’s worth — and what you taught me? We need to try.”  
  
Rey squares her shoulders. “No, Ben. There is no try. We must do.”  
  
“I’m sure I know that line from somewhere...”  
  
“Ah, I never reveal my sources,” Rey replies.  
  
So they smile. It’s a little tight, a little strained. But they carry in them both a pinprick of hope.  
  
Perhaps, Rey thinks, that is a good enough place to begin.

MOLTEN

“THE FLOOR IS MOLTEN LAAAVA!”

Little Eirene hurtles across the floor, barely missing the wall before she floats with her Lothcat, and disappears round a corner.  
  
Ben freezes. “She didn’t learn that move from me.”  
  
“Yes, darling. But her love of theatrics...definitely all you.”

LEAD

  
After a lifetime of swooping through starships; of building craft from earthbound scrap – piloting the Falcon is still an exhilaration.  
  
It's even better, when he's with her.  
  
"Follow my lead." Rey says, into her Comm.  
  
"To the ends of the world," Ben says, through the bond.

CLOAK

  
Sixteen moon cycles after Exegol, she hears the call.  
  
Rey turns off the cloaking device, and glides the Falcon above the mists of Umgul.  
  
"Miss me much?" she asks, through the bond.  
  
Her heart squeezes in her chest at his voice. "More than you could have imagined."

MIST

  
The florist mists his plants. His hands could hold whole continents, or pare them in two.  
  
Later, Rey opens her sketchbook. Dreams up entire universes in ink.  
  
The day he walks into her shop, he asks for a Dahlia.  
  
He holds her gaze as she etches one, indelible, into his skin.

BAT

  
“Can’t believe you’re making me watch this.”  
  
“It’s a Halloween classic.”  
  
“Is he...about to step up and bat...in a bloody STORM?”  
  
“It’s supposed to be ironic.”  
  
“Ben, you just like it because you love Edward Cullen.”  
  
Ben crosses his arms. “He’s misunderstood.”  
  
Rey groans.

ELF

"What you did in there was..s..s-....elfish." Rey's not quite sure that came out right.  
  
But the way Solo's staring down at her? All quizzical? That pisses her off even more.  
  
"Nice Liv Tyler reference." He deadpans.  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Mmhmm", comes the noncommittal reply.  
  
And alright. Maybe Rey *is* overreacting. A little. Her wool dress is clammy on her skin, and it's too hot in this hotel bar. Because she's irritated about the investors meeting. He had no right, talking over her like that.  
  
Nevermind that she'd been up the entire night before, crunching impossible numbers on her own. Or that Ben had offered to help. And she'd shut the door in his face.  
  
It's been sink or swim since the merger. Which is fine. She's used to operating in ambiguity. She doesn't need to think about before the merger, when things with them were... better.  
  
And they were... Nope. She won't go there.  
  
Except. The way he's looking at her right now, the whiskey-richness in his gaze? She remembers. All of it. All of him. She turns to grab her coat.  
  
The next thing he says is so quiet, she almost misses it.  
  
"You think I'm a monster, don't you?"  
  
Pity slithers its way into Rey's gut.  
  
She tosses the rest of her drink back, to burn it away.  
  
"I don't. But you'd have a better time, Ben, if you stopped telling yourself that you were."  
  
  
  
ICE  
  
Ben’s teeth are chattering, and his hands are like ice.  
  
“What were you thinking, chasing after beebee in a snowstorm? He knows to come back. You idiot.”  
  
“I know.” He glances up at Rey as she tucks the blanket closer around his shoulders. “An idiot who loves you.”

SCARF

He finds the attendant tinkering. Her orange scarf's a beacon in the labyrinth of the watch shop.

"Looking for a gift?" she says.

“Could say that.”

“Hm. What are you prepared to pay?” Ben takes in her cautious gaze. The face he remembers, from another life.

“Everything.”

  
  
  


WRAPPING

  
The door creaks open. Rey's sure she looks stupid. Oh well, nothing to do but commit.  
  
"Yo! Yo! Sucka MCs ain't got nothing on me! From my maths to my grades you can’t touch Rey Nobody!”  
  
Ben, for his part, looks horrified.

"What?!" Rey yells, in a slightly-too-high pitch. "You were the one that said you wanted me rapping!"  
  
Ben's shoulders are shaking. His face scrunches up. And then she realises...he's laughing.  
  
"Wrapping, Rey. I said I WANT YOU. IN WRAPPING."  
  
"Oh." _Shitshitshit._ "OH."  
  
Rey wills the earth to swallow her up. But Ben doesn't let that happen – he crosses the room to scoop her up, and she yelps.  
  
“Mmm. Come to think of it. That velour tracksuit is weirdly sexy.”  
  
“Don’t get any ideas.” Rey warns.  
  
He grins. “Too late.”  
  
They proceed to ruin the tracksuit. Extremely thoroughly.  
  
Later on, Rey's post-coital bliss lasts all of a minute, until –  
  
"Benjamin Chewie Niima-Solo. Are you humming the tune to WAP?!"  
  
He blushes.  
  
"Look, if the world would just hear them out on this..."

  
JINGLE

His legs look phenomenal in black latex. The red and white trim on the outfit isn’t bad either.

Rey chuckles and sits further back in her chair.  
  
“Are you here to jingle my bells? Or are you just happy to see me?” she says.  
  
Ben blushes, and kneels. “How about both?”

  
CHOCOLATE

  
“Want. The choclit.”  
  
 _An octopus._ Ben thinks. That’s what’s she looks like, climbing onto the kitchen counter after one too many mulled wines.  
  
“Idea.” Ben says. “You, to bed. I bring hot chocolate. Yes?”  
  
She smiles. “Besht hush-band EVER.”  
  
God, he loves her.  
  
“Yeah, I know.”


End file.
